


scotch

by ineedhelpwithmylifern



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alcohol, Harry is kinda drunk here, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23800111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedhelpwithmylifern/pseuds/ineedhelpwithmylifern
Summary: Peter finally convinced Spider-Man to talk to him. And here he was.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker
Kudos: 47





	scotch

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I was told to write this scene its angsty

Harry doesn't know how long he's been on the couch, the glass of scotch he keeps refilling empty once more. He feels terrible, whether it be the curse or the drinking. 

He's dying already, so why not?

Loneliness is his only companion, other than the alcohol. He drinks too much and then passes out, as it might just be the only way he feels like he can take a break. Dumping himself over his work has worked before, but it wouldn't help with this.

He falls asleep there, on the couch, his face shoved into the pillows in order to keep out the light. The window is open and the sound of the city bustling outside is faint but calming.

"Mr. Osborn?" The voice drags him out of slumber, making him open his eyes and glare groggily. Then he realizes who it is. "I think you're looking for me."

"I cannot believe my eyes," Harry speaks, "Spider-Man." The hero is descending from his ceiling by one of those webs, its silver color glinting in the sunlignt.

Harry sits up slowly, in amazement, because Spider-Man is in his living room. The one person who could possibly save his life is right here.

The hero comes down from the string to sit in one of the chairs, his feet hitting the floor. Harry stands, making his way over to the other chair and sitting, his hands shaking as he pours himself another glass of the scotch.

"Just the man I wanted to see," Harry rasps, "You, uh- You talked to Peter?"

He sees the hero's gaze linger on the glass for a few seconds too long before he answered. "Yep," The word gives Harry a sliver of hope, "I want to help you, Mister Osborn. I really, really do. I can't give you my blood," He pauses and the hope is gone, "Not right now."

Harry sets the glass down perhaps a little too hard as he stares the mask directly in the eyes. "Excuse me?"

Spider-Man shifts in the chair, obviously uncomfortable. "It's too dangerous. If our blood is incompatible you could die."

"I'm already dying," Harry growls, "Your blood can't make me die more."

"But it could do something worse."

Harry feels something break in him, his voice slipping away. It takes him a moment to regain his composure and he nods. "Okay, alright, how much do you want?"

"How much what?" The confusion in the other's voice is obvious.

"How much do you want?" Harry repeats, harder this time, "You name it, you want a boat? You want a plane? You want money? How much do you want?"

"I don't want your money."

"Come on," Harry yells, "Everybody wants my money!" This is supposed to be working, he's supposed to be getting what he wants, what he needs, in exchange for something he has-

"I don't."

"I thought-" Harry starts curtly, standing, while Spider-Man quickly follows suit- "I thought you were supposed to save people. I thought that's what you do, you save people's lives." Harry laughs, finding himself looking up at the blank mask. "You're just- You're just gonna let me die."

"I'm trying to protect you right now." The excuse does not work.

"No. No, you are not. You're trying to protect yourself." The bottle of scotch is in his hand again, whether it be by coincidence or some sort of magic.

"Look, we just need a bit more time to figure out something else-"

"I do not have time!" Harry shouts, the bottle being thrown at the hero in pure anger and perhaps desperation. Spider-Man dodges it and it hits the wall, shattering.

Glass hits Harry's face, making a mark, blood beginning to drip from it.

"I'm sorry," Spider-Man turns to leave, but Harry grabs his arm. "I have to go-"

"Stay."

"I have to go," Spider-Man pleads, but Harry shakes his head.

"Stay, _please,_ " His grip tightens on the hero's arm, "If you won't give me your blood, just- Just stay with me, _please_." The anger is all gone, a wave of tired sadness come to wash him away. 

"I can't."

"I'm alone. Always alone. Always. _Alwaysalwaysalways-_ " Harry rambles, "Pete probably doesn't care anymore. Something- I mess up always-" That loneliness is back again, seeping into his very core.

Spider-Man stops. "What do you mean about Peter not caring?

"I mess everything up-" Harry chokes out, "Please don't leave, I don't want to be alone again."

"Harry-"

"Not now, not now, not now-" He continues, speaking over and over again, and as the spider tries to pull away again, he does the only thing his foggy brain can comprehend at the moment.

Harry pushes up Spider-Man's mask just enough to kiss him.

And he kisses him.

Harry isn't quite sure of what he's doing but he knows that the hero's lips are soft and that he probably tastes like old scotch. He feels the other press back for a moment before swiftly pulling away.

"No," Spider-Man whispers, "I can't-"

Harry watches quietly as New York's Hero flies out his window and into the sky without as much as another word.

And Harry crumbles.


End file.
